Showers
by Wyndmir
Summary: Arthur has nothing better to do than work. Or that's what he once thought. Warm snuggly OTP goodness.


**Title:** Showers

**Author:** My sweet sis

**Pairing:** Curt and Arthur

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **Standard nonownership, nonprofit disclaimer applies

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Alarm clocks, Arthur thought, swiping his hand back and forth over his, until his middle finger pressed whatever button that made the plastic torture device shut the fuck up, were proof that hell existed. Because the alarms, he reasoned as he swung his warm, stiff legs over the side of the bed, were digital recordings of hapless souls caught somewhere between the ninth and tenth levels of evil chaos. _Hmmmm_. He shuffled across the room to the bathroom without bothering to turn on any lights. _Too gothic._

Alarm clocks, Arthur thought, as he flung battered slacks into the dryer and slapped at the on button, were migraine headaches translated into sound. Yeah. That was better.

Or maybe he just didn't like mornings. He didn't like _this_ morning at any rate, he decided. Leaning into the tub, he paused before twisting the knob. He could already hear water coursing. He stood for a moment, listening stupidly before his brain gradually connected the sound to the cause. Water in the gutters. It was raining. Again. He turned the knob as far as it would go, giving it an extra shake at the end for good measure.

Hot spray splashed across his sleep swollen eyes, but it didn't make him feel any better. He was tired. Dead tired. Staffing shortages and he had agreed to take over on some deadlines because, out of habit he supposed, he thought he had nothing better to do, until he had gotten home late that night and remembered with a start just how wrong he was, but he kept his word because he was Arthur, and had put in 64 hours between Monday and Thursday. Curt had laughed. He didn't even know there _were_ 64 hours between Monday and Thursday. Arthur's neck and shoulders could more than attest to it, however.

He spun slowly in the shower, wanting the hot water to be on his chest and his back at the same time. Whichever one he favored, the other got cold. That's the kind of week he was having.

And the rain. He could still hear the gutters rattling over the din of the shower. It had rained all week and was supposed to keep raining through the weekend. Steady, soaking, even, constant rain. Like the rain back home. But it didn't make him homesick for London. It made him feel more at home here. Made the apartment warmer, dryer, darker, cozier. And it made him _hate_ the glare of his computer screen and the desk on which it sat in a windowless cubicle that was far away from home. There was a small snapshot of him and Curt laughing and drinking at the bar that peeked out from the edge of his keyboard. It was nice, but nowhere near as nice as pushing rain-dampened hair away from Curt's smooth forehead, or sitting with him in the bar, laughing and drinking.

A dark shadow passed over the shower curtain and another splashing was added to the mix of rain in the gutters and water in the faucet. At least Curt wasn't peeing in the tub. Arthur braced for the passing chill when Curt flushed, then resumed his slow spin, trying to maximize his skin to hot water ratio. The rings of the curtain clinked together, a draft passed over Arthur's side, but before he could complain, Curt was pressed against his body, head beneath his chin, arms around his waist, and almost totally asleep. His front now much better provided for than with mere hot water, Arthur swayed slowly from side to side, letting the warm cascade drench Curt. Curt's arms slid a little farther down his waste to his hips, his head went slack against his Arthur's chest, no longer any _almost_ about it. He was totally asleep. And Arthur was standing there, holding him, in his morning shower, preparing to go out into the rain to spend another nine hours squinting mostly at copy, but often at a well worn photograph. Why? Because he had nothing better to do? He stood there, frowning into Curt's water darkened hair until the water lost its comfortable scalding edge. Still moving with Curt, as if the two had melted together, he eased out of the shower and back into the bed room. He paused at the dresser and had only the slightest difficulty dialing with wet fingers.

"Lou? I'm takin' th' day...Cheers."

The rain was picking up. If Arthur craned his neck far enough, he could see it through the gap in between the blinds and the window. He didn't bother craning his neck. He could feel it all around him. He hadn't bothered with towels or clothes, so the sheets were now damp. Arthur didn't bother with that either. They would all dry if they laid there long enough.

"Tuan Duc Vu does pork and eggs over rice for breakfast. S'pretty good." Curt mumbled, scratching his nose sleepily.

"Still raining." Arthur replied, tightening his hold.

"Lunch, then." Curt yawned and curled into the embrace.

Arthur kissed his hair, listened to the rain, and for the next few hours forgot that life was anything other than absolutely perfect.


End file.
